


Saying Goodbye

by SybilltheSeer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Godric's Hollow, Halloween, Halloween 1981, Harry Potter - Freeform, sirius black - Freeform, sirius finds the potters on halloween 1981
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybilltheSeer/pseuds/SybilltheSeer
Summary: Sirius arrives at the Potters' house on October 31, 1981, only to find that his worst nightmare has come true.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Saying Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope I didn’t miss any important details…I’m a little nervous about posting this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, even if it’s not totally perfect!

The October night was chilly, and Sirius shivered as he walked swiftly down the cobblestoned street leading to the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow. He kept his head bowed low against the biting cold, his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck for warmth. In his right hand, he held a bag of groceries. Ever since James and Lily had gone into hiding, they had been forced to rely upon their closest friends to bring them (and their now 1-year-old son) food and necessities once a week. Tonight was supposed to have been Peter’s turn, but Sirius had taken over for him after Peter had informed him that he wasn’t feeling well. 

“Just a cold,” he’d told him, after Sirius had asked about his Halloween plans. “No need to worry about me; I’m just not sure I’m up to doing much tonight. In fact, I might put off the Potters’ delivery until tomorrow. They have enough from the last time we stopped by with things, I’m sure they’ll be fine for one more day.” Peter had a nervous edge to his voice. 

“I don’t mind taking over delivery for tonight,” Sirius had replied. “Where’s the stuff? I can take it over ‘round 8 tonight.”

“No, no, that’s very kind, but really, you don’t have to do that,” Peter had insisted, seeming more panicky by the second. But Sirius had insisted, and Peter eventually conceded defeat. 

“You sure you’re alright, Wormy? You seem a bit stressed,” Sirius said hesitantly. Then, in a whisper, “If it’s getting to be too much worry for you, it’s alright if you want to switch it back to me. I don’t mind. It was just an idea to try to double the protection, you know, but really, the Secret’s just as safe with me as it is with you.”

Sirius could have sworn a flash of guilt crossed Peter’s face at what he’d whispered, but decided it was just his own paranoia. He really had become a bit more paranoid than he would’ve liked to admit, ever since joining the Order and learning about the prophecy thought to concern his godson.

So now Sirius found himself walking up the path to the front gate of the Potter’s cottage. He unlatched the gate, and continued up the path, but something felt terribly wrong. Looking up from his feet, Sirius saw that the front door was hanging open, swinging slightly in the cold breeze. His heart sank so quickly, he thought it might have fallen past his knees. A panic slowly creeping up on him, Sirius ran the rest of the way to the front door.

“No…no…NO!” 

The words seemed to be coming from some far away distance, though it was he who had screamed. Sirius dropped the groceries, ignoring the apples that fell out of the bag and rolled across the tile, and collapsed to the floor next to the body that lay sprawled in the entryway.

“No…James…” Sirius broke off and choked back a sob as he reached down to pick up the glasses that had fallen on the floor near James’ face. There was a trickle of fresh blood on his head where it had hit the floor. It must have only just happened. He had been only moments too late…

Sirius gently placed the glasses back onto his friend’s face, hands shaking, breath coming in short, painful gasps. He felt like the world was falling out from beneath him, and for a moment he had tunnel vision. How could this have happened? But he couldn’t think of that, not now, as he looked down into the motionless face of the man who had been his closest friend, his brother. James did not look like himself, in death. No cocky, amused grin, no cheeks pink from laughter, no warmth…only pale skin, wide eyes, and cold, frozen clamminess. Sirius could not bear to look any longer. 

Panic overtook him again as he tore his eyes away from James, frantically remembering Lily and Harry. Harry…his godson…You-Know-Who wanted to kill him…had he succeeded?  
Taking them two at a time, Sirius raced up the stairs. He turned towards the hall on the right, and breathing heavily, heart pounding in his ears, he paused to listen. The nursery door at the end of the hall was open, and Harry was screaming loudly. Alive. He was alive. But Lily…what about Lily…and where was You-Know-Who? Surely it had been he who had come here; he who had killed James…

Sirius crept over the soft carpet towards the nursery, wand drawn. He entered the room slowly, trying to calm his erratic breathing, but what he saw made his breath catch in this throat. Lily was sprawled on the floor in front of Harry’s crib, her face pale against the shock of bright red hair pooled around her head. The nursery wall to his right had been completely blown apart, and he could see stars in the inky sky as he looked out into the empty street. The air in the room was still full of settling dust. Sirius’ eyes snapped back to the floor. Lying near Lily was, if possible, an even more horrific sight. You-Know-Who lie broken on the ground, his red, slitted eyes staring unseeingly at Sirius, the skin on his face and hands a terrifying white. Sirius gaped in horror, not daring to move forward for a moment, envisioning You-Know-Who leaping up to attack him at any moment. But when the man on the floor did not stir, Sirius rushed towards Harry, who was still screaming in his crib. 

“Harry…Harry…” Sirius picked up the crying baby, close to tears himself. Now up close, he could see that Harry had not survived unharmed. Blood, thick red blood, was streaming from the baby’s forehead, rolling down his nose and mixing with the tears on his round cheeks. Sirius couldn’t tell how deep the gash on his forehead was, and hurriedly dabbed away at the blood with his scarf to assess the injury. The cut didn’t seem horribly deep: deep enough to bleed profusely, but not deep enough to require stitches.   
Sirius cleaned Harry up, and then held him tightly to his chest, breathing deeply, trying to fight the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Harry was still crying. “Shhh…shhh…it’s alright…” Sirius breathed, even though he knew it wasn’t. 

He stood there with Harry for what felt like hours, the cries of the baby mixing with his own gut-wrenching sobs. How long they stood there, Sirius did not know, for nothing mattered anymore, nothing at all. It was just him and Harry now. 

Gone.

They were gone.

A crash from downstairs brought Sirius back to the present. He turned his head to look at Harry, pressed against his shoulder, clinging to his neck. Harry was his responsibility now. And Sirius was ready. Ready to do anything to protect his godson; his best friend’s son. Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat.  
Securing Harry in one arm, and drawing his wand with the other, he hurried out into the hall. Surely, whoever the intruder was had already heard Harry crying. Sirius stopped before reaching the top of the stairs, heart pounding, as he heard footsteps coming up them.

“Stupif--- Hagrid!” Sirius exclaimed, as Hagrid’s large frame came into view.

“Sirius,” Hagrid nodded solemnly, his voice gruff. His eyes, red from tears, found Harry, and now fresh tears began to flow from them. “Lily an’ James…Lily an’ James…I jus’ can’ believe…” Hagrid burst into noisy sobs.

“Yes, I… it’s quite difficult to…” Sirius choked, and tried to clear his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Come to take little Harry, ‘o course. Dumbledore’s orders,” Hagrid sniffled. 

“What? No! Take Harry? Where? Why?” Sirius’ grip on Harry tightened, and Harry squirmed, whimpering. “I’m his godfather, I’ll take care of him!”

“Dumbledore says he’s ter go ter his aun’ and uncle, in Surrey. Don’ know why. I’m sure yer quite capable of tendin’ to him yerself, but I promised Dumbledore I’d bring ‘im. An’ if we can’ trust Dumbledore, who can we trust?” 

Sirius stared at Hagrid for a long moment, part of him wanting to make a run for it; dash down to his motorcycle parked at the edge of the village, and fly away with Harry, far away, where no one, not even Dumbledore could find them. But there was another part of him, a bigger part of him that knew what Hagrid had said was true. He had to trust Dumbledore. Dumbledore often knew what was best, and if Dumbledore wanted Harry to stay at his aunt and uncle’s, there must be a good reason.

Forcing his arms to loosen their grip on the last tie he had to his best friends, Sirius reluctantly handed Harry over to Hagrid, gently placing him in Hagrid’s dustbin-sized hands, trying to hide the tear that had involuntarily crept down his cheek. “Be safe, Harry,” he whispered, softly enough so that he hoped only Harry could hear. Harry began to cry loudly again, distressed at being passed to unfamiliar hands.

Hagrid grunted his goodbye between his own tears, and stumped down the stairs, Sirius following silently behind him, anger slowly replacing grief as he stared down again at James’ silent, pale face in the entryway. He was angry; angry at Voldemort, angry at Dumbledore for taking away his godson, but most especially, angry at Peter for betraying the people he had come to call his only true family. It had to have been Peter, surely. How else could You-Know-Who have known where to find them? A sudden, reckless desire for revenge overtook him as he stepped across the threshold and into the chilly night, closing the door on the nightmarish scene in the house behind him. He knew what he had to do.

“Take my motorbike,” he said suddenly, the words leaving his mouth before he could think. Hagrid turned to look at him. “Take my motorbike, Hagrid, I left it parked outside the village, near the big tree at the head of the path. It will get you to Surrey much faster. I won’t be needing it anymore.”

“Are yeh sure? Yeh love tha’ bike, Sirius, why I remember –"

“Yes, take it. I mean it. Harry loves riding on it, always calms him down,” he said, as Harry’s screams pierced the night. 

Hagrid nodded, and turned away again. His large frame blocked Sirius’ view of Harry, and some part of him felt suddenly lost, now, without him. He watched Hagrid walk further down the path, Harry’s screams now fading into the distance; watched until he saw the motorbike ascending higher and higher into the dark, starry sky; watched until there was nothing more to see. Sirius turned back toward the eerily silent house, a pit of despair in his chest, and anger boiling in his stomach. Glancing once more at the now motorcycle-less sky he turned on the spot, disappearing into nothingness.


End file.
